


Funeral Flowers

by Kanervakani



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Existential Crisis, Fluff and Angst, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 08:40:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14712806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanervakani/pseuds/Kanervakani
Summary: Lovely Igor gets a hold of some old photos from his time on this earth. He is surprised by a little collection of photos from what came after his life. He can't stand the flowers and has an angst session.





	Funeral Flowers

Every click of the mouse brought a new photo on the screen, but Igor couldn’t help feeling they looked almost identical to each other. Same gloomy looking people, same dull coloring, same closed casket with the same white flower arrangements set on top and on the sides. 

Igor’s mothers graciously patient caretaker had scanned a collection of old photos, that the bedbound lady herself hadn’t wanted to give up. It was mostly childhood photos, some of Igor’s dad with those fancy bikes he could never get his son into and a few awkward prom photos. What Igor hadn’t expected, nor asked for, were his own funeral photos.

It’s not that he was offended, the polite girl probably just hadn’t thought about the existential crisis some simple slightly dusty photos could cause. She hadn’t been in Igor’s shoes, it was pretty rare to be awoken from the eternal slumber by the sheer luck of having a clumsy necromancer in your vicinity. 

Lovely Igor shifted on the dark sofa uncomfortably and set the laptop on the table. He continued to roll the scroll button of his mouse back and forth. There were only 12 photos, and he let them continuously flash past his eyes.

Aside from recognizing the faces, it didn’t feel like his funeral. He wasn’t visible in any of the photos, there was nothing connecting him to the space. His mother wasn’t crying, though her expression had a familiar agony to it. It was the same one Igor had seen on her face at his father’s funeral.

The more he saw the same photos, the more he concentrated on the flowers. The casket spray was white with some light baby pink snapdragons hanging off of the sides alongside the white callas and greenery he didn’t recognize. Igor noticed the same white rose wreath in many photos from multiple angles. It had a large silk bow on it with writing he couldn’t make out. Some bouquets had similar pale silk bows. One of them had proud freesia sticking out that had probably smelled amazing, yet they too had the same dull white color.

Igor leaned back a bit rolling his lower lip between his yellowed jagged teeth. He felt guilty for the growing distaste for the photos, and especially the flowers. People had come to pay their respects, to remember him and this is his thanks; wallowing in self-pity? He thought about his youth, how he hadn’t made too many friends, how he had avoided cousins and other family and how his mother felt cold even when he was first learning what affection meant. Those people could still feel sorrow for him being gone, but it was no wonder there was no-one to make his funeral to look like his funeral. There was nobody who knew he loved yellow tulips, sunflowers, bright yellow and reddish freesia, and it was all his own fault.

’’ What’s up buttercup?’’ 

Igor made an audible noise from choking on his own spit as an answer. Pluto had crashed right next to him, side to side, on the sofa. Their shirt had lifted a bit in the shipwreck of a connection, and they pulled it down while leaning a bit forward.

It was clear they had started to open their mouth to apologize but had gotten caught up in staring at the monitor. Igor felt the small amount of blood he had rise to his face, but at the same time, he felt some of the tenseness of his body flood out.

’’ Aw man, now I kind of wish you had been looking at porn,’’ Pluto mumbled. Igor only made a panicked little snort that sounded very similar to the former choking noise.

Igor had stopped the scrolling on a very simple photo of the dark wood casket. Without any context it might not have looked like much, but Igor knew Pluto was sharp enough to put two and two together.

’’ Sorry I shouldn’t have interrupt-’’

’’ It’s ok, there’s like embarrassing baby photos too. You just caught me at a bad time,’’ Igor mumbled staring at Pluto’s cloudy eyes. He never knew where they were looking. Pluto reached out their other hand to squeeze his cheek. Ok, they had been looking back. They sat there in silence for a moment.

’’ Can I look at these?’’ Pluto’s voice was a bit quieter. Igor hadn’t lived in their nice little apartment for too long, but they had learned a few things. Pluto walked like a goddamn cat hunting which caused at least a few jump scares each day. There was always something weird in the apartment that came with the whole necromancy profession. This includes odd visitors. Igor had once lifted a carved skull off of a table and it had yelled at him about grabbing strangers. On that note, Pluto had no sense of personal space.

Most importantly though, and Igor had no idea why, it was all ok with Pluto. He felt comfortable with them and their curiosities, and they were comfortable with his. They were the only person he’d ever hugged that he liked hugging. Suddenly something incredibly personal like his own funeral photos felt like they’d be a fun slideshow with Pluto. Igor let out a small chocked;’’ yeah, sure.’’

’’ Ok. Just a second, I’ll go get some ice cream and blankets. Movie after?’’ Pluto asked and got a mellow nod in response.

\---

The next day had continued as the few past; waking up early, cleaning up as best as Lovely Igor could, looking for jobs, going to a few interviews. Last evening hadn’t passed Igor’s mind too many times. Going out and being around people was stressful on its own. 

On the way home Igor had grabbed some basic things from the store. He opened the front door and almost tripped on Pluto’s shoes when walking in. It was rare for them to be home this early. Igor tried to keep quiet, guessing that they were out cold taking a nap after work as usual. He walked over to the kitchen table resting the shop bag down.

Igor stopped suddenly noticing something new and unusual on the table. Unusual in this house at least, Igor would have been less surprised by a jar with kangaroo feet in it. It was one of Pluto’s strange carved jars though, cleaned and holding a bouquet. 

It was very simple, only constructed with tulips and long, true blue eucalyptus springing in every direction. Now that Igor was this close he recognized the overpowering scent too. He gently graced the yellow petals, smiling as best as his torn face let him. When he looked up at the bedroom door, closed, he felt a flickering under his skin. Something was different but he knew it was good.


End file.
